lifting oneself

 

 

the saw grass and dunes

salt spray

wafts carefully, into the lungs

fists of birds in flight

you and I, angling, manoeuvering around in

 

and the blanket of sea

swishing joyfully, joylessly, holding us up

the tip of waves tinged in white, in gold, the

far horizon line

where it scrapes

 

the yet more distant, full sky